Compass arrows on an old map

Telephone poles, passing one by one in the middle of nowhere

Fresh white chalk from home to first before the start of a game

Pencil marks drawn against a straight edge from point A to point B

But not everything lines up in a perfect straight line

Some things are meant to be a little bit bent

Especially me


An Ebb and Flow Ovation

Moonlight’s reflections bounce off canyon walls

My head leans back and my eyes close, as if the sun’s warmth is spreading across my face

The sound of rushing water pulls itself up, steps forward, not wanting to remain in the background

And I listen intently for the very first time

Droplets fall, currents move

The sound of a million hands clapping, an ovation

Not for one, but for both, ebb and flow

Taking quick bows, rushing off to create another moment


Originally posted October 5, 2015

Release the Anxious Sun

He called out

He waited, but the echo never returned

Instead he was greeted with the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end

Poking needles, a reminder of yesterday

How the sun rose in the sky, but never found the horizon to lay its head down at day’s end

The sun only waited and watched from above, trying to understand the hidden meanings that sometimes do not exist

Overcomplicating the simplicity of the moment

We are no better off reading tea leaves in a tiny cup

Floating in hot water

Steeping again and again, void of flavor and color

Drying spent leaves in the heat of the sun brings no salvation nor reprieve

They forever remain tasteless and grey

Instead, release the anxious sun, cycles need to complete

Allowing days to end, new yesterdays to birth

So a response can be heard the next time we call out


Originally posted October 12, 2015

Bottom of Dried Wells

Handstands on bicycles

Hanging upside down by my shoelaces

Walking backwards with the aid of a mirror

Seeing life from a different vantage point

At this point

I’ll try anything

I’m tired of sitting at bottoms of dried wells

In darkness, suffocating on dusty air

Tired of throwing rocks blindly into the fog

Desperately searching for a light to guide my way


Originally posted June 20, 2015


Whispered messages

Written words on billboards coded just for me

Self-interpreted images in a gallery

Understanding cloud formations in the sky

Reading glances from strangers walking by

More difficult – reading the faces of friends and peers

Unable to shut out the voices in my head

That get louder the quieter the space

Unable to find their meaning

Difficult to trust what I believe

My thoughts are clouded and influenced by my self-image

Trapped by struggles of my own reality


Originally posted June 14, 2015

The Tethered Morning Sun

Blades of grass follow the morning sun

It floats as if tethered by a balloon string, held back from flying away

Silhouettes pass against the fiery yellow and orange, one by one

And out of the corner of my eye, I catch my shadow reach out, yearning

But like the morning sun, he is tethered and remains

Like blades of grass, with eyes that can only follow

Left only to dream of what might have been



Originally posted October 19, 2015